I was at a playdate last month when another mom interrupted my story about Ellie’s first week of kindergarten to say, “Oh, that reminds me of when my daughter started school. Let me tell you what happened to us.”
And just like that, my experience became a launching pad for hers.
I smiled and listened, but inside I felt this small deflation. Like what I’d been sharing didn’t really matter except as a segue to something more interesting, her story.
The thing is, I don’t think she meant to be rude. Most people who come across as self-centered in conversation aren’t trying to be inconsiderate. They’ve just developed patterns of speech that subtly, constantly redirect focus back to themselves.
According to psychology research, self-centered communication often reveals itself through specific phrases and linguistic patterns that place the speaker at the center of every exchange.
Here are seven things people say all the time without realizing how self-centered they sound.
1) “I’m just being honest”
This phrase has become the universal permission slip for saying hurtful things.
Someone criticizes your parenting choices, your appearance, your life decisions, and then adds “I’m just being honest” as if that somehow absolves them of being unkind.
But here’s the thing: honesty without empathy is just cruelty with a disclaimer.
I’ve caught myself using this phrase too. When I’m frustrated with Matt and want to say something harsh, I’ll preface it with “I’m just being honest here” as if that makes it okay to be blunt without considering his feelings.
What I’m really saying is “my need to express this opinion matters more than your feelings about hearing it.”
Psychology tells us that people who frequently use this phrase often lack emotional intelligence. They overvalue transparency while underestimating the importance of kindness in communication.
2) “You wouldn’t understand”
This phrase shut me down so many times as a kid.
My mother would be upset about something, and when I’d try to connect or offer comfort, she’d sigh and say, “You wouldn’t understand.” Like my experiences were somehow less valid, less complex, less real than hers.
When someone says “you wouldn’t understand,” what they’re really communicating is “my experiences are more unique and significant than yours, and I’m not willing to try to explain them to you.”
It places the speaker on a pedestal of specialness while simultaneously dismissing the other person’s capacity for empathy.
I notice this at the park sometimes. One parent will share a struggle, and another will respond with “well, you wouldn’t understand because you only have one kid” or “you wouldn’t get it because your child doesn’t have these issues.”
Maybe they’re right that the experience is different. But empathy doesn’t require identical circumstances. It requires the willingness to listen and connect emotionally, which this phrase actively prevents.
3) “But enough about you, let’s talk about me”
Most people don’t say this quite so obviously, but they communicate it constantly through their conversational patterns.
You share something about your day, and within thirty seconds they’ve redirected the conversation back to themselves. Every topic somehow becomes about their experiences, their opinions, their stories.
I’m guilty of this too. Someone will mention they’re tired, and I’ll jump in with “oh my god, I’m exhausted too, last night Milo was up every two hours.” Instead of actually hearing about their exhaustion, I’ve made it about mine.
This is what psychologists call conversational narcissism. The person doing it often doesn’t even realize. They think they’re relating, finding common ground, being supportive. But the effect is that the other person feels unheard and unimportant.
I’m trying to be more aware of this in my own conversations. When someone shares something, I’m practicing just listening and asking follow-up questions before I relate it back to my own experience.
4) “I don’t need anyone’s help”
On the surface, this sounds like independence and self-sufficiency.
But when someone says this repeatedly, especially in response to offers of support, it often reveals something else: an inflated sense of self-reliance that dismisses the value of connection and interdependence.
Matt and I had to work through this in our marriage. I had this idea that asking for help somehow made me weak or burdensome. That I should be able to handle two kids, the house, my writing, everything, without needing support.
But humans aren’t meant to function in isolation. We’re interdependent by nature. And when someone constantly insists they don’t need anyone, they’re not just rejecting help. They’re rejecting the opportunity for deeper connection.
Psychology research shows that people who refuse to accept help often have difficulty building truly intimate relationships because intimacy requires vulnerability, which includes admitting you can’t do everything alone.
5) “I’ve been through worse”
This phrase is probably one of the most subtly damaging in terms of connection.
You share something difficult you’re going through, seeking understanding or support, and someone responds with “I’ve been through worse” followed by their own story of hardship.
They might think they’re showing empathy by relating to your struggle. But what they’re actually doing is minimizing your experience while centering their own.
I remember when I was dealing with postpartum anxiety after Milo. A family member said, “Well, I had full-blown postpartum depression, so at least you only have anxiety.” As if my struggle didn’t count because hers had been “worse.”
It left me feeling like I wasn’t allowed to be having a hard time.
This is what psychologists call competitive suffering. It turns pain into a contest where only the person who’s had it “worst” is entitled to sympathy or support.
Real empathy doesn’t require comparing experiences. It requires sitting with someone in their difficulty without making it about you.
6) “That’s not my problem”
This phrase reveals a fundamental lack of what psychologists call communal orientation, the tendency to see relationships as interdependent and problems as shared.
When someone frequently responds with “that’s not my problem,” they’re signaling that they only feel accountable for things that directly affect them. Other people’s needs, concerns, or difficulties simply don’t register as relevant.
I hear this sometimes at school pickup. One parent will mention an issue with the playground equipment, and another will shrug and say, “That’s not my problem. My kid is fine.”
But we’re part of a community. When something affects any of our children or makes life harder for other families, it kind of is our problem, at least in the sense that we have the opportunity to care and possibly help.
This phrase erodes trust over time. People learn they can’t rely on the person for support, understanding, or collaboration, making genuine connection nearly impossible.
7) “You’re too sensitive”
This phrase is emotional invalidation disguised as observation.
When someone says “you’re too sensitive,” what they’re really saying is “your emotional response is inconvenient for me, so I’m going to frame it as your problem rather than reflect on whether my behavior was hurtful.”
It’s a classic deflection tactic. Instead of taking responsibility for their words or actions, they shift the focus to your “overreaction.”
I dealt with this constantly growing up. Anytime I got upset about something my mother said, the response was “you’re being too sensitive.” It taught me to distrust my own emotional responses, to wonder if my feelings were ever valid.
Now that I’m a parent myself, I’m hyperaware of this phrase. When Ellie has big feelings about something that seems small to me, I have to resist the urge to dismiss it.
According to psychology research, people who habitually use this phrase are often deflecting responsibility while simultaneously invalidating another person’s emotional experience. It’s a way to avoid accountability while making the other person feel wrong for having feelings at all.
Conclusion
Most of us aren’t intentionally self-centered in our communication.
We’ve just absorbed patterns from our families, our culture, our own insecurities. We use these phrases without thinking about how they land on the other person because we’re so focused on expressing ourselves or defending ourselves.
I catch myself using some of these phrases more than I’d like to admit. The “I’m just being honest” defense when I’m being harsh. The tendency to relate everything back to my own experiences instead of just listening.
Awareness is the first step. Once you start noticing these patterns in yourself and others, you can’t unhear them.
The good news? Language patterns can change.
Instead of “I’m just being honest,” we can say “can I share a difficult truth gently?”
Instead of hijacking someone’s story, we can ask follow-up questions and actually listen.
Instead of “you’re too sensitive,” we can try “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Can you help me understand what upset you?”
These shifts require humility. They require putting ego aside long enough to prioritize connection over being right, heard, or centered.
It’s hard work. Some days I do better than others. But I’m learning that the quality of our relationships depends on how we show up in conversation. Whether we use words to build bridges or walls.
I want Ellie and Milo to grow up seeing examples of communication that values connection over ego. So I’m trying, one conversation at a time, to notice when I’m falling into these patterns and choose something different.
It’s not about being perfect. It’s about being aware. And caring enough about the people in our lives to communicate in ways that honor their experiences, not just our own.
